It was the nineties. I could tell by the fact that your hair was longer and blonde. Behind you is wood paneling, aqua carpet. You were wearing a light heather grey sweatshirt that had your favorite sports team on it. You were calling me on an old yellow house phone with a spiral cord. You asked me a series of questions that I answered, honestly. I started getting annoyed and you heard it in my voice. The questions were getting personal. You wanted to know how I felt about things I am not sure I am over yet. I was watching your face change as the background flashed faster. Your questions got quieter. You had more depth in your voice. You were suddenly older. Maybe your age now, or maybe a few years younger, or older, even. I couldn't tell whether it was the present or not. I could see the white hairs on your chin. I could see the curve of your lips as you asked more and more. It felt a lot more real than the first part of the questions. I always knew it was you, I could feel it. Now that the adult you was before me, I recognized the younger version inside of you, the inner child that I hadn't known personally. I felt as though I saw your current past life since I had met you at first, all those years ago. I had blinked and you weren't on the phone any longer. You asked me, clear as day, if I was ready. I asked what you meant by that, but I already knew the answer. So, after I had stalled, I admitted, no. I am not ready. I watched you fade away without a sound. An image of a cartoon stuffed teddy bear began to float up a measured chart as I heard a familiar sound. The carbon dioxide escaping from soda, the crackling of pop rocks candy, the noise I hear when my neck releases up my spine. What I gleaned is craniosacral fluid aligning up my back, where the pressure releases into tiny bursts. I feel them and hear them bubbling over, crisp in my eardrums. I am reminded of ascension and I cannot fathom why it is clear as day on my lips. I had an entirely different awakening as my eyes fluttered open, aware that it was still dark outside. My body felt calm and awake. I laid in bed, swallowing the lump in my throat. How can I move forward if you keep visiting me in my dreams? If I still see reminders everywhere? Was the connection all a dream, concocted by an intense and constant medicine filled state or did I really experience what it was like to feel a past life that I viewed through your eyes? You said you felt it too, but I couldn't help to feel your rejection each time I brought up the weird synchronicities in our lives.
I sift through the doubt. Maybe you belong to someone else. Maybe you were just a facade that was painted so real, because you are who you are and therefore, incredible at reading people. Did you read my heart like a book and play your hand well? Were you mine in another lifetime, one that I will not experience with my time on this earth today? Other people have felt my connection and intensely reacted to me. Made me feel like I was their person, when I could feel that it was not true. I feel the push to move towards certain people, to test me. To see if I am in fact ready to move forward. I can only assume I have passed so far. Life has been easy for me and I hate to gush or admit it to all those who struggle around me. How can I be upset? I have seen the universe in your eyes. There is more to this world than the physical and I must live this experience for all that I can. I must enjoy what I was given. Except for the pit of my soul. The part of me that I cannot lie to, the one that tells me what I already know, I cannot ever choose anyone else, not in my soul. It has been decided, against your will. Against mine. I gave in a little, dipped my toes in, to see what it would feel like. You did it too. The hardest part is letting go and deep down, I can't. It's not an option. You belong to a part of me. You had a piece of me your whole life. I felt it return to my spirit. The part of me that I was missing. Your soul is hot like fire and mine is heavy, sunken down, waiting to burn again. My heart feels split in two, the deep raw feeling comes back at full force. Understanding that you and I cannot simply talk to each other, like we had. I severed the tie and perhaps that was the wrong thing to do, even if it felt right at the time. For days, I struggle with feelings of rejection. The pit of my heart, empty and longing. Understanding, nothing can fill that void. I do not need to try, I know it to be true. I ignore the deep seeded feeling to burst into tears. To embrace the reminders rather than see them, then gloss them over for what they are; reminders that I cannot have you in this life. You don't want me. You don't want this. It's too much for you to bear. The feelings came up and you chose to decide it was insane. I don't blame you. I feel unhinged, most times I think about it.
I go about my life after the startling reminder, that I cannot be where I was before. I cannot feel what I felt when I was with you. I wash dishes and stare at the dish soap. Feeling what it was like, at the end, when all I had to say was negative. Where did those words come from? Deep down there are things that need to be brought out and sorted. I had more to explore, but it got to be too much for us both. You said you would help me unpack my bags. You never let me help with yours. You never helped with mine. We simply held space for each other while we set to work, sorting the unsortable from the past. Some of it was buried so deep, I had forgotten it was there. Some I didn't even recognize. I felt as though part of our unpacking was to push the other to see what we couldn't see. I didn't like being that for you. I didn't like how it came about for me. Maybe you had a better hold on it than me. You were always quiet about certain things. You were desperately looking for a drug to make your pain come alive and a drug to dull it when it was too much. I let you deal how you wanted to. I jumped into projects, people, crafts, learning. I wanted to be farther ahead than I am now and it pained me to be so far behind. I wanted more of the story when you brought up how you carry your money. I heard about a gun drawn on you. I heard the quiver in your voice, barely audible. I saw you swallow that dry lump and a tear fell out of your right eye. I caught it and kissed your cheek. You didn't say anything else. I wanted you to, but I understood that was more than you could. I never faulted you for having more to say. I didn't fault you for your past. I just couldn't take the rejection. You couldn't take the negativity. I blink and sigh, deep down the empty anxiety sits in waiting. I want to fill it with love. I want to capture the innocence of my child-like mind, to surround that blackness. To squeeze it until it bursts into what I can only imagine would turn to soft play dough. Malleable and willing. I decide to fill my heart and soul with love, but I often wonder where it will come from. I feel that it is an endless fountain that also hasn't pumped water for centuries. The brass tarnished and clogged with mineral deposits. I stand and feel my legs ache to lay down and sleep. Reality is a strange place to be when you have seen proof of heavens.
I sift through the doubt. Maybe you belong to someone else. Maybe you were just a facade that was painted so real, because you are who you are and therefore, incredible at reading people. Did you read my heart like a book and play your hand well? Were you mine in another lifetime, one that I will not experience with my time on this earth today? Other people have felt my connection and intensely reacted to me. Made me feel like I was their person, when I could feel that it was not true. I feel the push to move towards certain people, to test me. To see if I am in fact ready to move forward. I can only assume I have passed so far. Life has been easy for me and I hate to gush or admit it to all those who struggle around me. How can I be upset? I have seen the universe in your eyes. There is more to this world than the physical and I must live this experience for all that I can. I must enjoy what I was given. Except for the pit of my soul. The part of me that I cannot lie to, the one that tells me what I already know, I cannot ever choose anyone else, not in my soul. It has been decided, against your will. Against mine. I gave in a little, dipped my toes in, to see what it would feel like. You did it too. The hardest part is letting go and deep down, I can't. It's not an option. You belong to a part of me. You had a piece of me your whole life. I felt it return to my spirit. The part of me that I was missing. Your soul is hot like fire and mine is heavy, sunken down, waiting to burn again. My heart feels split in two, the deep raw feeling comes back at full force. Understanding that you and I cannot simply talk to each other, like we had. I severed the tie and perhaps that was the wrong thing to do, even if it felt right at the time. For days, I struggle with feelings of rejection. The pit of my heart, empty and longing. Understanding, nothing can fill that void. I do not need to try, I know it to be true. I ignore the deep seeded feeling to burst into tears. To embrace the reminders rather than see them, then gloss them over for what they are; reminders that I cannot have you in this life. You don't want me. You don't want this. It's too much for you to bear. The feelings came up and you chose to decide it was insane. I don't blame you. I feel unhinged, most times I think about it.
I go about my life after the startling reminder, that I cannot be where I was before. I cannot feel what I felt when I was with you. I wash dishes and stare at the dish soap. Feeling what it was like, at the end, when all I had to say was negative. Where did those words come from? Deep down there are things that need to be brought out and sorted. I had more to explore, but it got to be too much for us both. You said you would help me unpack my bags. You never let me help with yours. You never helped with mine. We simply held space for each other while we set to work, sorting the unsortable from the past. Some of it was buried so deep, I had forgotten it was there. Some I didn't even recognize. I felt as though part of our unpacking was to push the other to see what we couldn't see. I didn't like being that for you. I didn't like how it came about for me. Maybe you had a better hold on it than me. You were always quiet about certain things. You were desperately looking for a drug to make your pain come alive and a drug to dull it when it was too much. I let you deal how you wanted to. I jumped into projects, people, crafts, learning. I wanted to be farther ahead than I am now and it pained me to be so far behind. I wanted more of the story when you brought up how you carry your money. I heard about a gun drawn on you. I heard the quiver in your voice, barely audible. I saw you swallow that dry lump and a tear fell out of your right eye. I caught it and kissed your cheek. You didn't say anything else. I wanted you to, but I understood that was more than you could. I never faulted you for having more to say. I didn't fault you for your past. I just couldn't take the rejection. You couldn't take the negativity. I blink and sigh, deep down the empty anxiety sits in waiting. I want to fill it with love. I want to capture the innocence of my child-like mind, to surround that blackness. To squeeze it until it bursts into what I can only imagine would turn to soft play dough. Malleable and willing. I decide to fill my heart and soul with love, but I often wonder where it will come from. I feel that it is an endless fountain that also hasn't pumped water for centuries. The brass tarnished and clogged with mineral deposits. I stand and feel my legs ache to lay down and sleep. Reality is a strange place to be when you have seen proof of heavens.
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